Where Do Broken Hearts Go
by eseldie
Summary: When we lose something we love...can we ever really let go?


**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

Author's Notes: Ok so it goes a little something like this. I have come to the realization that I have been doing too many adult things...and I'm not happy about it. But in the long run, I suppose it's a reality I have to face. But I gotta tell you, that since I've been getting stuff done, I can write. Don't ask me where it comes from.

As always, thanks for the reads and reviews. Not matter what, I am going to keep Chance and Ilsa alive. Or at least in my head ;)

**Where Do Broken Hearts Go**

She worked the stage like always. Holding the attention of her young audience. Well, young by her standards. She had been asked again by the local college to speak about her philanthropic endeavors. She had been speaking to the school for the past couple years since her husband's death and had received stellar reviews. It was likely due to her attitude and her ability to understand all levels and facets of the donor world. Many of the speaking counterparts she had met, never understood how to speak to the common layperson. They would always talk as if everyone listening wanted to become rich or popular. Ilsa, on the other hand, always explained how hard work and perseverance would get a person anywhere they wanted to be. A lot of people had made the assumption that all she had to do was wake up and breathe and that everything had been handed to her. It was far from the truth. She had made her own way in life, and then met a man who had respected that. Even though Marshall had been unfaithful, he still understood that she was an independent woman, and could have made it on her own. Armed with a strong yet caring demeanor, and a powerful sense of self worth, she was the best individual to guide the young minds of the college students that sat before her.

As she flipped through the last few slides, she could tell that the room was getting anxious. Making her final stand at the podium, she was ready. "And finally, are there any questions?" Nearly every hand in the giant auditorium went up. The only ones down were those furiously writing down the advice she had given throughout the presentation. She knew that the Q&A would last a majority of the afternoon. They were interested in every word she shared. It wasn't that often that a down to earth billionaire would take the time to address a group of college students, but this auditorium was full. In fact, it was standing room only, and there were plenty of people standing. The moderator offered her a chair, knowing full well that the day was far from over. She graciously accepted the plush leather seat. She was always interested in what the students had to say. She smiled as a few of the younger men blushed when they spoke to her. Of course they had good reason. At her age, beauty came naturally. She could have got out of bed every single day and put on a sweat suit and still look phenomenal. She wore make up because in her mind she wasn't aging gracefully. Of course that wasn't the case.

The man standing at the top of the auditorium took note of her attire. She was clad in a finely tailored Chanel suit. The neutral grayscale complimented her jet black hair and the cream colored blouse brought out her eyes. What did him in were her shoes. They were simple, black and high enough to keep his eyes focused. When she had walked around the stage during the presentation, he noticed how her legs seemed to be the length of eternity. Ten minutes into the questions, she had shed her suit jacket. Most of the men exhaled collectively, now that they got to see a little skin. But the man at the top of the auditorium brushed it off. Of course he was always enthusiastic to see her perfectly tanned flesh, but he was more focused on the watch she was wearing. He had given it to her last Christmas as a bit of a gag gift. She normally wore an extremely expensive timepiece around her wrist, so when he gave it to her, he mentioned something about how a leather band would look just as sexy on her. To his surprise, she wore it much more often than he anticipated. He liked that.

His mind was drawn away when she crossed her legs. All too elegant he thought. The sound of clapping brought him back to reality. The students began to shuffle towards the stage to meet her. It was as though she was some sort of celebrity. He figured it would be a few more minutes before he would be able to talk to her. Of course, he would have waited any amount of time considering he waited months already. When the crowd finally disbanded, he started walking down the stairs. Halfway into his descent, he spotted a man approaching Ilsa. He too was dressed in a well tailored charcoal suit. Christopher Chance stopped as he watched the man wrap his arms around her, then kissed her. She had been gone for nearly a year, with little contact. That included none with him. He was only aware of her return when Winston accidently mentioned he was going to meet with her.

As Chance watched the suited man exchange intimate looks, he made his way back to the top of the auditorium and sat down. Ilsa handed the him her briefcase and kissed him one last time before he exited the room. Chance took a deep breath, recalling their last exchange, right before she made her exit.

9 MONTHS AGO

"I don't think you have the right to spend my money on things that are unnecessary." He crossed his arms and glared at her. "So what makes you think it wasn't justified?" She was surprised that he thought his actions were okay. "You're kidding me right? Not only did this woman use you, but she didn't give a second thought attempting to get into your pants; while married I might add, to save her husband she was apparently in love with." He didn't back down, even as angry as she was. "You sound like you're jealous Mrs. Pucci." That warranted a much deeper look of anger. She had politely asked everyone she knew to drop the Pucci and simply call her Ilsa. Him using it cut deeper.

She wasn't sure if he had used her former name by accident, or was simply attempting to gain the upper hand. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't need this from you. You know damn well you should have consulted me over this." He moved closer to her. "If I have to consult you over decisions I think are within reason, then maybe I don't need your money anymore." For as many times as they had argued and threatened to break their business relationship, somehow they always forgave each other. But this time was different. It involved another woman. A woman that used him and yet he still found the need to help her. Ilsa had taken into account that it was for the sake of saving her husband, but she still had her doubts about Maria.

Chance had gotten a call from her asking for his help. In his eyes it was simple. She needed weapons and money to protect her tribesman from the invading militia her husband apparently angered. It wasn't like he had to risk his life again for her, but it was the principle. Chance had provided her with an arsenal of weapons, three heavily armored vehicles and fifty thousand dollars. When Ilsa found out where her money had gone, she was furious. When she approached Winston over the matter, he tried to explain that it wasn't Chance's intention to upset her. In his eyes, he was simply doing his job. Once again, Ilsa recalled the times she and her ex-assassin coworker clashed over business differences. Only this time it was different. They had both met their melting points.

They continued staring at each other until she broke the silence. "Then this should end our partnership." He crossed his arms, finally coming to the realization that this argument was truly marking the end. Without any other words being exchanged, she went back to her office to collect her jacket and purse. He never moved as he watched her approach him to leave. As she passed, he turned and grabbed her shoulder, but she never turned to look at him. "Chance. Let me go." With absolute hesitation, he loosened his grip and allowed her to continue her exit.

PRESENT DAY

When the auditorium was finally empty, he decided to approach her. Taking a deep breath, he started down the stairs again. Just as she turned to leave the stage, she caught him out of the corner of her eye. She almost had a mild heart attack when she realized who it was. When he finally walked up onto the stage, he managed a sheepish smile. "Hey." She wasn't sure if he was real, because she never thought she would see him again. "Hello Mr. Chance." He was now at a complete loss for words. For one, it had been nearly a year since they spoke and two, she was as stunning as he remembered…and more. He shoved his hands into his jackets and stared at the floor, searching for something to say. A position Ilsa knew all too well. Of course, she wasn't really sure what to say next either. When he finally looked up he was met with questioning eyes.

"I…I um…um Winston mentioned you were back in town. I mean for this…this thing. So, I…um...thought I'd stop by and say hello." She looked at the floor and then back at him, mirroring his prior gesture. "Yes. I'm here for the week. The school invited me back for a presentation." He motioned his head towards the slide show projector. "Yea, I was here for the show. It was good." Just as she was about to speak again, the auditorium door opened. The suited man he had seen earlier stepped inside. He ignored Chance and made a beeline onto the stage at Ilsa. "Hey sweetie, I forgot my cell." He gave her a quick kiss and looked back to Chance. "Christopher Chance this is Professor Burton Ashe. Burton, this is Chance." The man extended his hand and was greeted by one much stronger than his. Before either Chance or Ilsa could say anything else, Burton kissed her again on the cheek. "I need to get going. I have a meeting. I'll see you tonight. Chris, nice to meet you." Chance shook his head as the tall lanky man jogged out the door.

Chance turned back to Ilsa and gave her a smirk. "Is that really his name? Burton?" Ilsa gave him her trademark glare. "Yes, that's his name." He smiled again. "Is he like a hundred years old?" That warranted a small chuckle from Ilsa. "He is an extremely intelligent tenured professor." He shook his head. "And you're…um…" She interrupted him. "Yes Chance we are dating." That made him eat the words he had just delivered and the mood got a bit somber again. But in Christopher Chance fashion, he wanted to keep it light. "I see. Well, do you think Mr. One Foot in the Grave would care if you joined me for a drink?" She knew he was trying to avoid the fact she was seeing someone, but faced him. "Chance, I don't think we should…" He abruptly stopped her. "Ilsa…one…drink." The longer she hesitated, the more persistent he would become. She wondered how on earth he even managed to say anything to her let alone be there, considering how they parted ways nine months ago. They both had time to process everything that had occurred and she figured it would be safe enough to venture out with him. "One drink Chance. One drink. Now you need to go. I need to do a few things before I leave here." He smiled then turned to go. Looking back he smiled. "Warehouse…9 sharp." She nodded and watched as he left.


End file.
